


Come Find Me

by SDBookFan



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Dehydration, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Starvation, but he's not like about to die, it's really low blood sugar, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 09:52:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12651198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDBookFan/pseuds/SDBookFan
Summary: Anxiety wants to know, if he disappears, will anyone come looking?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr at ec-sanderssides

_Well aren’t you just a little failure. You can’t even get the others to listen to you, let alone like you. Really why do you even try? You should just take your own advice and bury yourself deep underneath the covers as far away from everyone as possible, so they don’t have to deal with you anymore._

Anxiety hunched further into himself, trying desperately not to listen to the mocking words echoing inside his mind. But the truth was that they were right. He was disliked by the others, and they probably would be happier if he just locked himself in his room and never came out. That is if they noticed he was gone at all…

“No,” he whispered hoarsely, eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold back the tears. “That-that part isn’t true. They’d notice if I was gone.” He bit his lip. I hope.

_Well why don’t we test it out._ The voice was back. _Lock the door and see if anybody comes for you. If you’re right, it shouldn’t take that long. But if you’re wrong, then what’s the point of ever leaving anyway?_

Anxiety hesitated. Normally, he tried to drown the voice out, blasting his music as loud as he could. But maybe it had a point this time. He had some granola bars in his room, and the bathroom sink for water. He’d be fine to hole up for a few days. And if it went beyond that, well, then nothing really mattered, did it?

He let himself slide off the bed, stumbling a bit as his feet hit the floor. Trying to ignore the way his legs were trembling, he walked over the door, and locked it.

“Guess it’s time to find out how worthless I really am,” he muttered, before making his way back to bed and flopping down on it. He buried his face deep into his pillow, letting his eyes fall closed. _Maybe they’ll notice,_ he thought. _Maybe they’ll come find me. Please let them come find me, because if they don’t.._

Lost in his unhappy thoughts, Anxiety drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Roman sank back down into the mindscape feeling pleased with himself. Despite his troubles last week, he had rallied magnificently, and this next video was sure to be a hit! He appeared in the common area smiling, still riding high on his success.

“Well that sure went well, didn’t it?” Morality said cheerfully, appearing next to him.

“Indeed my fellow compatriot,” Roman replied, “We were unstoppable tonight. A creative force so great that all the world will be in awe of our talent.” Getting more entranced by his daydreams of the future, he continued, “They will laud us left and right, throwing flowers before our very feet and-“

“Okay, now you’re just being unrealistic” Logan cut in dryly, adjusting his glasses.

Roman lowered his arms from where they had been lifted in a dramatic pose, frowning a little, annoyed that his jubilant monologue had been cut off. But before he could reply, Morality spoke up.

“Well all that really matters is that we’re all proud of our accomplishments, right?”

“I suppose you are correct.” Logan conceded, "This video did seem to go rather smoothly, and Thomas is feeling confident about its reception.”

“Exactly” Morality cheered.

Roman decided to rejoin the conversation. “I concur, my friends, and I further propose that we celebrate this achievement. Perhaps with a Disney movie marathon!” He looked expectantly at the other two sides, sure that they would agree.

And just as he had predicted, they did.

“Well I suppose a move marathon could be enjoyable,” Logan said, “Although I must insist that we include _Big Hero 6_ in it.”

Morality was a little more open in his enthusiasm. “A movie marathon sounds great!” he gushed. “Tell you what, you guys pick the first movies and I’ll get the popcorn.” And with that he rushed out of the room.

Roman smiled, and began debating with Logan over the first movie. Eventually he convinced the other to start with a classic, _Cinderella_ , with the promise that _Big Hero 6_ would be next. By the time they finished talking and were putting in the DVD, Morality had returned.

“Got the popcorn,” he said, holding up two bowls. “I tried to make as much as possible.”

“And we appreciate your efforts,” Roman replied, taking one of the bowls. ‘Now come, let us begin!”

Morality went to sit down, but then hesitated. “Do you think we should ask Anxiety to join us?” he said uncertainly, looking back and forth between the other two sides. “It’s just, I haven’t seen him around recently, so I thought maybe it’d be nice to invite him.”

Roman frowned. It was true, Anxiety hadn’t been around recently. He hadn’t even shown up to nitpick or poke holes in Roman’s ideas today. Not that he was complaining of course, but it was odd. Come to think of, Roman wasn’t really sure when the last time he had seen the darker trait. Perhaps the video last week?

“I don’t know Morality,” Logan’s words broke his uneasy train of thought. “Group bonding doesn’t really seem like Anxiety’s thing, and neither does a Disney marathon.”

Well, that last part wasn’t true. Roman could easily remember the debate they’d had about Disney a while back. In truth, it had been rather fun, if a little frustrating at points. Still, Logic may have had a point about the group bonding aspect. Anxiety was a bit of a loner.

“Oh, I guess you may be right,” Morality said, looking a little crestfallen. “Still next time we see him, we should try inviting him to do something with us, just in case.”

“That sounds.. good.” Roman replied, hesitating over his words a little. “Now, let’s get on with the movie.”

And with that, they settled down, all comfortably sprawled out on the couches, watching as the opening credits rolled. But despite his love of Cinderella, Roman couldn’t quite focus on the movie, still unable dismiss the flicker of unease in the back of his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Self-Hatred

Anxiety stared up at the ceiling. His eyes were dull, open but not seeing. He felt numb, his chest empty. No one had come.

He’d always known that he was the outcast of the group. That the others tended to avoid him. But still, he’d thought, maybe? Maybe they’d notice something, anything. He wasn’t hoping for anything big, but just even a knock on the door would have been nice.

But they hadn’t come. None of them had come, not even Dad. He’d been in here for a week, and no one had noticed. Guess that showed what they thought of him.

“You should have expected this,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice rasping out from between cracked lips. He’d given up on drinking two days ago, too dizzy to get off the bed and make his way to the bathroom for water.

“You should have expected this,” he said again, a little more bitterly this time. “After all, who would miss you? You were so fucking arrogant to think that they’d come searching. Who are you to demand that kind of attention? You’re so fucking pathetic!”

His last words were barely choked out, as Anxiety began to shake, almost sobbing, but without enough moisture left in him to properly form tears. He curled up into ball, his hands coming up to clutch at his hair, as he breathed raggedly, struggling to get in enough air.

_Worthless. Pathetic. You should just disappear._

The words echoed over and over again inside his head. He couldn’t stop them, not anymore. Not when he had proof of exactly how little the others cared about him. Besides, they were right.

Eventually, the shaking stopped as Anxiety wore himself out. He let the numbness creep back into his chest as he shut his burning eyes. He buried himself in his pillow. The cool cotton felt good against his too hot, aching head.

 _What am I going to do,_ he thought dully. _I just, what can I do?_

He didn’t want to face the others, not after this. But at the same time, he wasn’t going to make it much longer just lying here. And while the thought of disappearing was so, so tempting, he didn’t really want to die. At least not like this. Besides, him dying might hurt Thomas. And the last thing he needed to do was hurt someone, again.

 _One more day,_ he thought, _I’ll give it one more day. I just want to lie here for one more day. Before I have to face them…._

Trapped alone in his head, with no one else for company, Anxiety drifted off into a light, half-delirious doze.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, as Roman walked back to his room to grab another DVD, still continuing his Disney movie marathon with the other sides, he glanced down the hall where Anxiety’s door was. Part of him still felt uneasy.

He grabbed the DVD out of his room, and as re-entered the hallway, he hesitated for a moment. He looked uncertainly to the end of the hall. Should he see if Anxiety wanted to come out and watch movies with them?

Roman took a few steps down the hall before stopping. At the same time, Anxiety did seem to be avoiding them lately, he might not welcome the company. Roman shook his head, and turned back to the common room. Another time perhaps.


	4. Chapter 4

Morality was making pancakes.

That was the first thing Roman noticed as he walked into the kitchen, still rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, peering over Morality’s shoulder. “Is there some special occasion I was unaware of?”

“Good morning, Roman,” Morality replied. “And no, I just felt like making pancakes.”

“Well I certainly appreciate it” Roman told him, clapping a hand on the other side’s shoulder. “Pancakes are a wonderful way to begin the morning. Ah, do you need any help?”

“No!” Morality almost shouted before composing himself. “I mean, that’s very kind of you to offer, son, but I think I’m doing just fine.”

Roman was a little offended. He could help make pancakes. Yes, he may have melted a bowl once making microwave popcorn, but that was ages ago. He had improved since then, probably.

“Oh, well actually there is one thing you could do.” Morality then spoke up, turning to look at him.

“Anything,” Roman declared, looking at the fatherly side expectantly.

“Do you think you could go and get the others? I just thought it would be nice to have family breakfast this morning,” Morality explained.

Roman blinked. “Certainly,” he said, “Although it may be difficult to get Anxiety up. You know he’s not much of a morning person.”

“Yeah, I know,” Morality admitted, “But I just still feel a little guilty he wasn’t with us last night. And besides, pancakes just might tempt him out. After all, who doesn’t love pancakes?”

“You make an excellent point” Roman replied, ignoring the twinge of guilt that went through him when Morality mentioned the movie night. “I will go and fetch the two of them and return anon.”

With those words, he strode out of the kitchen. He headed towards Logic’s door first. While the scholarly side wasn’t an overly cheerful morning person like Morality, he was certainly going to be easier to rouse than Anxiety.

And indeed, it only took a few knocks on the door before it opened, revealing Logic dressed in a onsie, hair a little more messy than normal.

“Yes?” Logic asked, adjusting his slightly crooked glasses.

“Morality has made pancakes, and hopes that we will all join him for breakfast” Roman explained. “He sent me to fetch you, and I will be going on to drag Anxiety out of his lair momentarily.”

“Oh, that sounds satisfactory.” Logic said, “I will be down momentarily, I just need to dress first. And good luck with Anxiety.”

Roman grimaced a little, “Thanks.”

With that he made his way down to the end of the hall where the darker side slept. He rapped hard on the door, and listened for a response. There was none. He tried knocking harder, but still nothing.

“Anxiety,” he called out, frustration filling his voice. “I know you’re in there. Morality made pancakes, and he wants us all to come down and eat them.”

Still nothing.

He tried again. “If you don’t come out, I will find a way in,” he threatened.

He really would. He’d learned to pick locks a while back. A surprising number of actors managed to get themselves locked in closets, bathrooms, storages sheds, etc. and breaking down the door wasn’t always feasible.

He listened for a moment longer, but he couldn’t even hear any sounds of shuffling that might indicate Anxiety moving towards the door. Rolling his eyes, he knelt beside the door, pulling a few bobby pins from his jacket pocket.

It took a good few minutes of fiddling, and some muffled cursing that Dad would have frowned at him for, but soon the lock clicked open. Roman stood up, dusted himself off, and opened the door.

It was dark. That was the first thing he noticed as he stepped inside. All the lights were off, and the curtains had been pulled shut. Determined to get the other up, he felt around for the light switch, flicking it on when he had found it.

The light filling the room allowed Prince to see the rather large lump lying in the center of the bed. He strode towards it, and began shaking Anxiety.

“You really do have to get up,” he informed him. “If you don’t, Morality will be pouting for the rest of the day, and I, for one, refuse to suffer through that.”

The shaking didn’t seem to be working that well, so Prince felt around for the edges of the blankets and pealed them back. Anxiety groaned as the light hit him, flinching back into the pillow.

“Prince, what?” he croaked, his eyes barely open, only mere slits

Roman frowned down at him, the other side looked horrible. Anxiety was normally pale, but right now he looked practically translucent, and the dark, dark bags under his eyes only made him look worse.

“Morality made pancakes,” he said cautiously. ‘He wants you to come down and eat them.”

“Pancakes,” Anxiety mumbled, “I, yeah, sure. I’ll- I’ll be down in a bit, just give me a minute.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. Normally him coming in with such request would have resulted in some groaning, a few eye rolls, perhaps a few snarky comments, but Anxiety just sounded exhausted.

“Are you alright?“ he asked, although he was fairly certain he knew the answer to that already.

“Yeah, ‘mm fine” Anxiety said as he pushed himself up, one hand going to his head. “Like I said just give me a minute, you can head down without me.”

Roman just shot him an incredulous look. Like he would believe that. “I’ll just stay here, thanks, and walk down with you,” he replied. “I have to make sure you don’t fall back to sleep.

Anxiety stared up at him, still looking rather out of it. “God, fine,” he said, “whatever.”

He then swung his legs to the side of the bed, and slid to his feet. Or rather, attempted to. As soon as he pushed off the bed, he swayed dangerously, his knees giving out.

Roman caught him before he could hit the floor, now thoroughly alarmed. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “What’s wrong with you? Should I get Morality.”

“No, don’t, please, don’t get Morality,” Anxeity replied, still limp in Roman’s grasp. “He’ll just freak out and worry. I’m fine, just a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“Just a little dizzy, huh?” Roman said flatly. “I take it that’s why you can’t even stand. I’m not an idiot, Anxiety. I can tell something’s wrong”

“Please talk a little quieter,” Anxiety begged, his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re killing me. And I’ll be fine once I eat. So, please don’t tell Morality.”

Roman pursed his lips. He didn’t like this. “If,” he began, “and that’s a big if, if I go and get you food without alerting Morality, will you agree to explain exactly what happened to put you in this state?”

“Why would you even care to know?” Anxiety muttered.

“Anxiety.” Roman’s tone was serious and full of warning.

After a pause, Anxiety spoke up again. “Yeah, I’ll tell you,” he said sounding exhausted and defeated.

“Then we have an accord,” Roman said. With that, he scooped one arm up under Anxiety’s legs and set him down on the bed. He stepped back to study the other side. The more he looked at him, the worse Anxiety appeared. He was obviously in pain, with the way he flinched every time his head moved, and Roman could see tremors going through him.

“I’ll be back soon with food.” he said quietly. Well hopefully soon, it might take some time to make excuses to Morality. His best bet was convincing the other side that Anxiety had point blank refused to leave the bed, but that Roman would drop off his pancakes.

“Try to stay awake,” he added as an afterthought as he moved towards the door. He only got a vague grunt as a response.

Shutting the door behind him, Prince strode into the hallway, his thoughts dark. He wasn’t sure what had put Anxiety in such a wretched condition, but he doubted it was good. His complete reluctance to tell the others was also concerning.

Roman sighed. Speculating would get him nowhere. He’d find out soon enough.

* * *

 

Back in the room, Anxiety stared up at the ceiling. Well, one of them had come for him, kind of. From the sounds of it, it didn’t seem like anyone had noticed him missing, and that the only reason he’d been found at all was because Morality had been trying to be inclusive again.

He put a hand over his face, trying to ease the throbbing pain in his head a little. He couldn’t believe he had almost passed out in Prince’s arms. That was mortifying. And now he had to explain the situation. He had to think of some kind of excuse, but his head felt too fuzzy to think.

Maybe Prince would be satisfied with the simple excuse of getting absorbed in a show and forgetting to eat. It wasn’t like he really cared that much anyway. None of them did. This week had proven that.

Despite Prince’s last words, Anxiety felt himself slipping back into sleep. He couldn’t fight it, he was just far too tired, of everything.


	5. Chapter 5

_….anxiety_

_Anxiety_

“ANXIETY!”

Anxiety jolted upright, his heart pounding a mile a minute, as his head swung wildly looking for the source of the sound. He gasped for air, adrenaline and terror making it hard to breath.

Hands caught him, cupping his face. He tried to jerk away from them, but they held firm.

“Anxiety, breath!”

He struggled to obey, taking in a ragged, gasping breath.

“Okay, good. Now again.”

This time it was easier to breath. He could feel his heart rate start to subside. Now more able to focus he glanced up. Prince. He’d woken him up again.

“Prince, what the fuck,” he complained, now calm enough to be annoyed. Seriously, why had the other side woken him like that.

Prince released his face, scowling at him. “I should be asking you that,” he said. “You’re the one who wouldn’t wake up. I nearly went and fetched Morality, promises be damned.”

‘Well I’m glad you didn’t” Anxiety muttered. His sluggish brain then took in the other implication of Prince’s words. He’d been that hard to wake? He hadn’t realized his condition had gotten that bad.

“I brought your food,” Prince interrupted his thoughts. He put the plate in Anxiety’s lap, “Here.”

Anxiety looked down. They were chocolate chip, his favorite. But for some reason, the thought of eating them just made him feel nauseous. Which was stupid, since he hadn’t eaten in days. He should be starving.

Stalling for time, he glanced up and asked “Anything to drink?” He figured water would be easier to keep down.

Prince rolled his eyes. “Demanding much?” he said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. ‘But yes, I brought water.”

Anxiety carefully took the cup, trying to conceal how much his hands were shaking. Although based on the narrow eyed gaze Prince was giving, he doubted he had succeeded.

The water felt impossibly good against his parched throat. He made sure to sip it slowly, not wanting to upset his stomach further, but it was hard. He wanted nothing more than to down it all at once. Once he had drank about half the glass, he turned reluctantly back to the pancakes.

 _I’ll start with just a bite,_ he thought. _And maybe if I cut it up a bunch, Prince won’t notice how much I actually eat._

Speaking of Prince, as Anxiety picked up his fork and knife, the other spoke up.

“So,” he said, his gaze never leaving Anxiety, “I brought you food, and Morality thus remains unaware. At the moment he believes you pulled another all-nighter and refused to leave the bed. I have fulfilled my end of the bargain, now you fulfill yours.”

Anxiety paused, and then set his utensils back down. _Right…_

“It’s no big deal,” he said, looking away from Prince. “I just kind of forgot to eat or drink for a little while, that’s all. I was… distracted.”

There. It wasn’t technically a lie, and it should be enough to satisfy Prince.

“How long is a while?”

Or maybe not.

Anxiety sighed. “Does it matter?” he asked, trying to deflect.

“Anxiety.”

Anxiety sneaked a glance at Roman. He looked serious. Shit, maybe he wasn’t getting out of this.

“I had some water two days ago,” he muttered. “And the last time I ate was about a week ago”

He held his breath, waiting for Prince to yell at him. But instead, he just sighed. “No wonder you’re not eating the pancakes.”

“What?” Anxiety’s brow furrowed, What did that mean?

“When you go long periods of time without food,” Prince lectured, “It can take some time for your stomach to readjust to eating again. Those pancakes, while delicious, are just too rich for you right now. I’ll see if I can convince Morality to make soup for lunch. “

“How do you know this?” Anxiety said, bewildered.

“Food can sometimes be hard to come by on quests” Prince replied, “And I know quite a bit about self-care. It wouldn’t do to ruin this perfect body.”

Okay, that made more sense. Anxiety looked down at his lap, where the pancakes still rested. “So do you want these?” he asked.

Prince hummed. “Maybe later,” he replied, “And Anxiety…”

“Yeah,” Anxiety said, feeling uneasy. Prince’s tone had gotten serious again.

“What exactly was so distracting that you didn’t eat for a week?” Prince was looking right at him, his eyes burning into Anxiety.

Anxiety had to look away again, not able to hold Prince’s gaze. “Oh, you know, just normal stuff,” he shrugged. “The internet, Netflix.”

“For a week,” Prince’s voice was flat. He did not sound like he believed Anxiety.

“Well you know how it is when you get caught up in something,“ Anxiety said lightly, desperately hoping he could play this off.

“Anxiety, if you’re just going to lie, I _will_ get the others, and we _will_ get to the bottom on this,” Prince threatened, going to stand.

“No!” Anxiety lunged for him. “Don’t get the others!”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” Prince demanded. “I know something’s wrong, your physical condition alone could tell me that much, and your absolute refusal to tell the others is equally concerning!”

A sudden surge of anger swelled up in Anxiety. Where had this concern been for the past week?

“Why do you care?” he spat. ‘“It’s not like we’re friends.”

“You look like you’re on death’s door, and yet you ask me why I’m concerned,” Prince said incredulously. “Anxiety, how could I not be?”

Anxiety barked out a laugh, hard, cold, and bitter. “Oh please,” he sneered. “If Morality hadn’t sent you up here for some misguided thoughts of bonding, you never would have noticed. You don’t care. You never have, never will. And you know what, maybe I might have thought otherwise once, but I’ve learned my lesson with that.”

“Anxiety, what do you mean by tha-“ Prince said slowly, but Anxiety cut him off. He was on a roll now, and nothing could stop him.

“I know exactly what you all think of me,” he snarled. “I know exactly how little you all care. You want me gone, don’t fucking lie to me. And if I disappeared tomorrow, you wouldn’t even notice. After all, it took you a week to find me this time, didn’t it? So don’t stand there pretending to care, _Princey_ , because I know the truth. You’ve never cared about me, and you never will!”

Anxiety was panting by the time he had reached the end of his rant, and much to his shame, he could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Prince looked shell-shocked, standing there stunned from Anxiety’s verbal bombardment.

“Get out,” Anxiety rasped. He didn’t want to deal with this anymore. “Just get out.”

He closed his eyes, sure that he’d soon hear the door close behind Prince. But instead, he felt the bed dip beside him, and hand jerking his face upward. Startled, he opened his eyes again to see Prince only inches from his face, expression like a thundercloud.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice low and filled with an emotion Anxiety couldn’t quite place. “It seems like we are long overdue for a very serious discussion.”

Staring up at him, Anxiety only had one thought running through his mind.

_Shit._


	6. Chapter 6

Anxiety jerked his jaw out of Roman’s grip. Roman let him, but didn’t let his gaze shift off the other side. He didn’t know what was going on here, but he knew it was serious. Part of him wanted to go right now and fetch Logic and Morality. But at the same time he didn’t want to risk Anxiety clamming up even more.

“So,” he began slowly, his mind racing. “There are several things I need to address. But let’s start simple. Why weren’t you eating?”

Anxiety wasn’t looking at him. “Why the fuck should I tell you,” he said, his shoulders hunching in.

“Because despite what you seem to believe,” Roman snapped, frustration and worry bubbling up from within him. “I actually do care about what happens to you! And actually, you know what, let’s start there instead. Why on earth would you think we don’t care about you? We fight, yes, but that doesn’t mean I hate you. That doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt. That doesn’t mean I want to see you like this!”

“You know Princey,” Anxiety said, his hands fiddling with the hem of his jacket, “You’re really good at those pretty words and promises. A real charmer, if you will. But see the thing is, it’s your actions that show the truth. So I don’t _think_ you guys don’t care about me. I _know_ you don’t. So you don’t have to lie and play nice because you think it makes you a hero. Just forget we ever had this conversation and go back to your oh so perfect life. I don’t care anymore.”

Roman’s frown deepened. Anxiety didn’t sound angry like he had before. Now he just sounded defeated. Not to mention what he was actually saying was disturbing.

“You said something about that earlier,” he said, trying to recall the exact words. “Something about learning your lesson, and then later how it took a week for us to find you this time. Wh-what were you talking about.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, okay,” Anxiety told him, his hands beginning to ball into fists. “Nothing fucking matters anymore.”

Roman stared at him. This wasn’t good. He had to figure out where all this was coming from, but if Anxiety couldn’t talk to him, how on earth was he supposed to do that?

 _Think, Roman, think,_ he thought. _Use your creativity, and work it out._

 _Okay,_ he thought. _Anxiety hasn’t eaten in week, uh, that’s the same amount of time he talking about us taking to find him. Find. That’s an interring choice of words. And earlier he sounded really upset about why I did come in, talking about how it wasn’t because we cared…_

“Did you want us to find you?” he blurted out, things suddenly clicking into place.

“Right now I want you to leave me alone.” Anxiety snarled, his shoulders hunching in defensively.

But Roman wasn’t deterred.

“You wanted us to search for you,” he said, mind racing furiously. “You wanted us to notice that you were gone, to prove that we cared, that we’d help you. And we-“

“Didn’t.” Anxiety finished for him. “Yeah, I noticed that. I mean, I guess part of me always knew, but this past week just helped to make that little fact _crystal_ clear.”

Roman was going to be sick. This was a disaster. They-he had messed up so badly.

“Anxiety, that’s not true. I am so sorry, I, we didn't” he stammered out.

“Really, Roman?” Anxiety rolled his eyes. “I thought we went over this. Telling me a pretty lie won’t magically make this all better. And you know what, maybe this all of best. Now I know what to expect, instead of hop- whatever. Point is, it’s done.”

Roman felt helpless. He could have stopped this days ago. He’d been right by Anxiety’s door, and if he had just reached out and knocked, things would have been better. But he hadn’t, and now he might broken Anxiety’s trust in him forever. And Anxiety was right, there were no words to fix this.

But, maybe, actions might.

The beginnings of a plan beginning to swirl inside his mind, Roman reached out and wrapped his arms around Anxiety.

 _I’m going to make this up to you,_ he vowed silently. _For what kind of prince would I be if I ignored the injury I so callously dealt you._

Anxiety shoved him away. “Get off,” he hissed.

Prince let him.

“I’m going to go talk to Morality about making soup for lunch,” he said. “I’ll be back soon to bring you some more water though. Try not to move too much. You need to let your body recover.”

Anxiety scoffed “Yeah, yeah, do whatever the hell you want. I really could not care less.”

But Roman could hear the lie in his voice. Anxiety did care what he and the others did, more than he had ever realized.

“I’ll be back soon,” he repeated, then headed towards the door.

Morality was probably in the common room. The trick would be not revealing why he wanted soup. Maybe he could play the random craving card.

True, telling the others might make things easier, and Roman did think they would need to learn at some point what had happened, but he’d promised not to say anything to them. And right now he had already lost enough Anxiety’s trust. He didn’t need to lose anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Anxiety buried his head in his hands. And here he’d though this week couldn’t get any worse. But no.

The thing was, finding out that the others didn’t care had hurt, but had not been entirely unexpected. He’d just never wanted to admit it to himself before. So despite the pain this little experiment had caused, Anxiety would have been able to deal with it and let things go back to normal. And chances were, the others would have never noticed a thing.

But now, just when he had managed to accept that he was on his own, that he wasn’t the kind of person people wanted to be around, Prince had to come in. And now he was going to have to deal with all his bullshit guilt and pity, because while the other side may have hated him, but Anxiety knew that his hero complex wouldn’t let him leave Anxiety alone either, not when he thought Anxiety was in distress. It was the exact same attitude Prince got when he saw anyone he thought needed help.

Although, Anxiety really, really wished that for once Prince could leave off with all his heroic crap, because having him try and “help” Anxiety out of uncomfortable obligation was actually worse than the others not noticing him disappear for a week.

Still, at least it wouldn’t last long. A few days, heck maybe even just one, and Prince would remember just how much he hated being around Anxiety, and he’d give up. Till then, Anxiety might as well accept some of his help, like the soup.

Anxiety hated to admit it, but he had really screwed up on the whole not eating thing. Sure, this was hardly the first time he’d skipped meals, but he’d never skipped so many before. And if Prince knew how to help him recover from his mistake, then fine, Anxiety would let him help. Then Prince would feel appropriately heroic and leave, and Anxiety would go back to being forgotten.

Anxiety reached for the glass of water by his bedside, taking small sips until he’d drank the entire thing. He set it back on the bedside table. While he still felt like crap, his headache had eased up slightly.

He stifled a yawn. Despite having spent most of the last week sleeping, he still felt exhausted. Actually he felt more exhausted than when he’d last fallen asleep. Anxiety let his eyes close. What the hell, he was tired and it wasn’t like there was any point in getting up. He might as well sleep

When Anxiety woke up, it was to a cool sensation on his forehead. He squinted up as he reluctantly forced his eyelids to open. Prince was sitting next to him wiping down his forehead with a damp cloth.

“…the hell?” he muttered, only half awake.

“Your skin’s rather warm,” Prince explained briskly, “Likely from the dehydration. I brought an entire pitcher of water this time. I thought it would be easier, since until you recover more, walking will be rather difficult. Oh, and I have that soup I mentioned. I told Morality I’d had a craving and simply had to have minestrone soup. You should eat it while it’s still warm.”

Anxiety blinked trying to process the wave of words. Right, okay.

He forced himself upright, shoving away Prince’s hand as he did so. Prince let him without a fight, although he kept staring at Anxiety with a weird kind of intensity. Anxiety tried not to squirm under it.

“So you got minestrone?” he said, pressing his hands to his eyes trying to wake himself up more. God, he still felt tired, like his very bones were exhausted.

“Well, I realized once I reached Morality’s room that I don’t actually know what kinds of soup you like, and while chicken noodle may be an old standby, I also didn’t want Morality to start thinking I was coming down with something. And well, minestrone was the first kind of soup to pop into my head after that. I figured you’d probably be fine with it, correct?”

“Yeah, no, minestrone’s fine,” Anxiety mumbled. It was actually his favorite kind of soup, but he wasn’t going to give Princey the satisfaction of knowing that. He took the bowl and began to sip it carefully.

After a few minutes, he glanced up. Prince was still sitting on his bed.

“Did you want something?” he drawled.

“What do you like to eat?” Prince asked in reply.

Anxiety paused, setting down his spoon. _What?_ His confusion must have shown on his face, because Prince clarified.

“Eating is going to be hard for a short while as your stomach readjusts to having food again, so there’s no point in making it an even worse struggle by making you eat food that you hate. So I’m asking you what you like to give me a better plan for your recovery.”

“I thought this was my recovery?” Anxiety said confused. “I mean, this will get me upright again, and then I can make my own food. Or at the very least go grab the leftovers Morality always leaves me in the fridge.”

“Of course this isn’t enough to fully recover!” Roman spluttered. “You haven’t eaten in a week! Wait, those leftovers were specifically for you?”

“Yeah,” Anxiety dragged out. “Why do you care- you’re the one that’s been eating them.”

“I will endeavor not to do so in the future,” Roman said, actually looking a little contrite. Then he flung his hands out dramatically. “But this is not the point! You can’t just eat one meal then be better, it takes time for you to recover your appetite. I doubt you’ll even be able to finish the soup. In fact, I imagine you must be feeling rather full right now, don’t you?”

Anxiety scowled down at his soup. There was still half of it left, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat much more. He hated that Roman was right.

Despite Anxiety’s lack of response, Roman was happy to continue on.

“What’s important is not for you to try and gorge yourself the minute you can walk again. Rather, I recommend having smaller meals every few hours or so. Bread would be a good thing to try and eat next. It’s solid food, unlike the soup, but not overly heavy, and the carbs will be good for you. Oh, and while it may still be too heavy for you right now, perhaps tomorrow we could add some peanut butter for protein. Do you like peanut butter?”

“You’ve seen me eat peanut butter” Anxiety said dryly. Dammit, so much for everything being over quickly. Still, he doubted Prince would feel this invested tomorrow. He’d just listen to the stupid diet plan, and work it all out on his own.

“You know,” Prince said thoughtfully, ignoring Anxiety’s last comment. “It’s probably faster just to ask which foods you don’t like.”

Anxiety rolled his eyes, but since he could see Prince staring at him with expectation, he reluctantly replied.

“I don’t like fish, and I’m not really huge vegetable person,” he muttered and then because he could see Prince gearing up for a lecture, he hastened to add. “I mean, they’re fine _in_ things, I just don’t like them on their own. Um, aside from that, I’m not a huge mayonnaise person, but that’s about it.”

Prince nodded briskly.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he said. “For now, try and eat a little more if you can. If you can’t, just rest, and be sure to keep drinking the water I brought.”

“So I’m supposed to just stay in bed? All day” Anxiety asked, not at all happy about taking orders from Prince.

“And here I thought you enjoyed spending your days lazing away,” Prince said with some amusement in his voice. “But yes, pushing yourself and expending energy when your body’s running on nothing would be foolish.

“Well then can you at least grab my laptop,” Anxiety said, gesturing towards his desk, irritated that once again Prince had a point.

Prince deposited the device in his lap.

“I’ll be back later,” he said, and then with a hesitant smile. “Perhaps we could watch some Disney movies together?”

“Whatever,” Anxiety snapped, shoving his headphones over his head. Like he cared.

There was short pause, during which Anxiety kept his eyes firmly fixed on his screen. Then there was sigh and the sound of footsteps.

“Remember to drink water,” Prince called out one last time, as he shut the door.

Anxiety rolled his eyes. God this whole heroic act was annoying. He seriously wished that Prince would just go back to normal, instead of acting like he cared. This wasn’t a fairy tale, and Anxiety was no damsel in distress. Prince could go be the hero somewhere else.


	8. Chapter 8

Roman wished he could say that he’d been able to sense that something had been wrong, and that was why he had chosen to go downstairs in the middle of the night. However, the truth was that he had simply been restless, unable to sleep after all the uneasy realizations of the day.

As such, he had decided to go and make himself some hot chocolate, hoping that the comforting treat would ease his troubled mind. However, after he’d placed his mug in the sink and had turned to go, he heard a noise.

It sounded like a whimper, or a choked off groan. Concerned, Roman paused, listening carefully. After a minute, there was another sound, a muffled smack, followed by a soft curse. Now, having figured out where it was coming from, Roman made his way to the downstairs toilet.

The door wasn’t locked, or even closed, so Roman was easily able to see the dark figure inside hunched over the toilet.

“Anxiety,” he called softly, but not without urgency. “Are you well? What has happened”

Anxiety groaned.

“Go ‘way, Princey, ‘m fine,” he mumbled, a statement that was rendered much less effective by the fact that he still had his forehead pressed against the rim of the toilet.

“If you seriously think I’m going to believe that, you’re as delusional as you always accuse me of being,” Roman informed him stepping closer. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Nothing, just leave me alone.”

Anxiety’s tone was plaintive, but Roman had no plans of heeding his request. Instead he crouched down next to the other side.

“Did you throw up?” he asked, voicing his suspicion. Anxiety didn’t reply, but his grimace as he turned away was more than answer enough.

“This can sometimes happen,” Roman was quick to reassure him. “And you hadn’t eaten in quite awhile. I do find myself somewhat surprised though, I hadn’t though any of the foods I’d prepared would have been heavy enough to upset your stomach.”

He then paused. _Wait._ He’d been too tired and worried to question it, but why Anxiety downstairs this late at night?

“Anxiety,” he began carefully, not wanting to sound to accusatory, lest Anxiety grow angry and refuse to answer. “Did you come down here for something to eat?”

“So what if I did,” Anxiety snapped, and well, so much for not making him angry. “It’s a not crime. Beside, I though eating would be a good, thing all things considering.”

“While I am happy that you seem to be recovering your appetite,” Roman replied, “the fact remains, that you are not out of the woods yet, and as such, maintaining a proper diet is more imperative than ever. Now, what it exactly was it that you ate?”

“Leave me alone,” Anxiety growled, or at least attempted to. He sounded a bit too miserable to really pull it off. Roman was unimpressed. Still he did want an answer.

Then a burst of inspiration struck.

“Tell me and I’ll help you back upstairs,” he offered with a sly grin. Judging by Anxiety’s current state, there was no way he could make it back up the stairs on his own, in fact, Roman was surprised he’d even made it down them. So, unless he wanted to be stuck here all night, he had to accept Roman’s offer.

Anxiety glared at him.

“I don’t need your help,” he hissed.

Roman rolled his eyes.

“You obviously do,” he pointed out. “I mean just look how badly you’re shaking. So unless you still want to be here when Morality comes down to make breakfast and have him ask all sorts of awkward questions, you should probably just take the deal.”

“I hate you,” Anxiety grumbled, but as Roman continued to stare at him, he finally gave in.

“Fine,” he muttered, before glaring even harder, “But if you ever tell anyone about this-“

“Death and torment till the end of my days,” Roman said idly, “I get the picture Doom and Gloom. Now wrap your arms around my neck.”

With that he easily scooped up Anxiety into a princess carry. And after a slight bit of finagling to turn out the light, he made his way upstairs and to Anxiety’s room.

As he set the other side down on the bed, Roman ran a quick eye over him. While Anxiety didn’t look quite as bad as when Roman had woken him up in the morning, he still looked awful, far too pale, tremors throughout his body, and and an overall pallor of exhaustion. Not to mention he looked slightly nauseous, likely from his stomach’s recent upset.

“So,” Roman said casually, “What food did you make the poor choice of partaking in?”

For a minute, he thought Anxiety was going to back on their deal as he bristled, but after a moment he deflated, turning his head to the side before mumbling.

“I got some pizza from the fridge and a can of Sprite.”

Roman’s brain stalled for a moment, trying to process the frankly ludicrous sentence he has just heard.

“Pizza and Sprite!” he spluttered. “Those are some of the worst choices you could have made! You need food that stays in your stomach, not heavy greasy foods like pizza. And soda! Why on earth would you think that was a good idea.”

“It was Sprite” Anxiety replied defensively, “Isn’t it supposed to settle your stomach?”

“That’s ginger ale,” Roman said with exasperation. “Although I suppose on hearing that little mix up, I can forgive you for _that_ choice at least. The pizza, however, still shows exceptionally poor judgement. What were you thinking?”

“Well, I didn’t know I was going to throw up,” Anxiety said. “I’d already gotten food in my stomach so the worst of it was over. It’s not like I’ve ever had this much trouble before.”

Roman opened his mouth to continue his lecture, before the last bit of Anxiety’s sentence gave him pause.

“What do you mean before?” he asked suspiciously. “Have you done this more than once?”

“I mean, not this bad,” Anxiety muttered. ‘But you know, I miss meals ever so often. Shit happens. I’m just used to it.”

“But why?” Roman knew he sounded like he was begging, but at this point he didn’t care. Something was deeply wrong with Anxiety, had apparently been wrong for quite some time, and he didn’t understand how none of them had noticed. “I just don’t understand. Why hide yourself away? Why skip meals? Explain it to me.”

Anxiety scoffed.

“Like you fucking care,” he said, but before he could say more, Roman cut him off.

“Yes, I do,” he said insistently. “I really do. Because, Anxiety, this isn’t okay. You know that right? That this isn’t okay? Because this isn’t healthy.”

Anxiety was staring down at his clenched fists.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he finally replied.

“Then explain it to me!” Roman implored. “Maybe I can help.”

Anxiety gave a huff of disbelief.

“You can’t help,” he said, his words resounding like a cold statement of fact. “You know why? It’s because you’re too damned perfect. Always happy, always off on some adventure. You live off in lala land where your biggest problem is figuring out what new fun thing you’’re going to do that day. So what could you possibly know about me, or about how I feel? Let’s face it, Princey, you couldn’t understand if your life depended on it. So just go be someone else’s hero. At least you’ll be able to save _them_.”

Roman felt cold as Anxiety’s words washed over him. He sounded so sure of what he was saying, and so resigned to it. Roman knew if he walked away now, he would never be able to get though to Anxiety never again. This was his one shot.

Keeping that in mind, he mustered up his courage, took a deep breath, and looked Anxiety dead in the eye.

“That might not be as true you think it is.”


End file.
